


Three Times is a Pattern

by AetherSeer



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2009 Stanley Cup Playoffs, 2016 Stanley Cup Playoffs, 2017 Stanley Cup Playoffs, Blow Jobs, Drunken Kissing, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Pittsburgh Penguins, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 11:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11230422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AetherSeer/pseuds/AetherSeer
Summary: Three times, well, that’s a pattern. And it’s one Sid’s happy to keep making.





	Three Times is a Pattern

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hazel_3017](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazel_3017/gifts).



The thing is, Sid’s won the Cup before. Twice, even. But that doesn’t stop him from keeping a close eye on it during the locker room celebrations and the trip back home to Pittsburgh. At this point, even Phil the Cup Keeper has resigned himself to standing in the corner of the room while Sid holds the Cup for pictures, hugs, and the occasional sloppy kiss from an overeager teammate.

Sid might also be a bit drunk, since he’s contributed his own fair share of sloppy kisses to the celebration.

But the Cup stays in his hands when another Penguin isn’t holding it. And maybe it goes to Flower, or Tanger, or Geno for a little while. And maybe a group of rookies make off with it when Hags distracts him for yet another selfie, but he gets it back (suspiciously sticky, _gross_ ) and it goes home to Sewickley with him.

He feels a little bad for ditching Phil the Cup Keeper, but it’s not like the Cup will get damaged while in Sid’s care. He’ll get it back. Sid just has this _need_ to keep it in his sights. It’s just as bad as last year, even though it’s only been nine months.

Nine long, injury-prone, stressful months. Sid will never admit it aloud, but he’s just a tiny bit glad hockey season’s over and his team can have some time to recover.

 

He’s in the kitchen, trying to figure out if he’s hungry enough to cook or not, when he hears a car pull up. There’s only a few people who know his gate combo, and only one that would be coming over at this time of night after a Cup party.

Geno lets himself into Sid’s house, shirt plastered to him with champagne. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes bright and happy. Sid leans into the hug, not even minding when his nose bumps painfully against the underside of Geno’s jaw.

“We won, G. We won the _Cup!_ ”

Geno’s laugh is warm, and Sid shivers happily. It’s nice, he thinks. He’s happy and Geno’s happy, and the whole city is roaring for _them_.

Side turns more into Geno, humming when those huge hands land on his back, warm through his thoroughly champagne- and tear-soaked shirt. He tucks his head against Geno’s shoulder, lets Geno hold both of them upright for just a minute.

Eventually, though, he has to pull away. And _ew._

“I’m all sticky,” he complains.

Geno laughs at him. “You have shower in house, Sid.”

Oh. Right. A shower sounds _wonderful_.

The bright gleam of metal catches his eye as he heads toward his bedroom, and Sid doubles back to carefully pick up the Cup. He can’t just _leave_ it sitting in his kitchen. It’s the _Stanley Cup_.

 

Geno follows him up the stairs. Sid glances back once. Sure enough, Geno’s eyes are glued to Sid’s ass. Maybe Sid puts a little more wiggle— _not a waddle, thank you very much, Flower_ —in his step. Maybe.

Geno stops at the door to Sid’s bedroom. It’s not a spoken question, but Sid still hates the hesitancy. They have a routine, by now.

 

Once is an accident:

_Geno backs Sid up against the bedroom wall, crowding him in. His eyes are bright and glassy. He smells like champagne and sweat. His fingers clutch Sid’s jersey as his eyes flick down to Sid’s mouth. Sid licks his lips nervously._

_Having Geno so close, with the adrenaline of winning still running through him, makes Sid bold. He leans up and brushes a kiss over the corner of Geno’s mouth. Not a sloppy kiss, like the one Tanger had planted on Sid’s cheek earlier, but a careful brush of lips. A question._

_Geno shudders and dips his head. Sid moans into Geno’s mouth when Geno kisses him. This kiss isn’t gentle or chaste. It’s hot, and hungry, and maybe a little messy. His hand goes up to hold the back of Geno’s head, angling him for a better kiss._

_The Cup waits, dried out from its dip in Mario’s pool downstairs. Sid can see it over Geno’s shoulder. He grins into the kiss. They did it._

 

Twice is coincidence:

_Sid can barely speak, he’s so happy. He lets his team soak him in champagne, pour it into his mouth from the Cup. And Geno’s right next to him, drinking with him._

_Sid hugs Geno tight, lets his lips catch against Geno’s wet skin. He brushes one, two kisses over Geno’s shoulder. He’s barely let go of the Cup all night, but he’ll hold onto Geno instead. That’s okay. The other guys won’t let the Cup get away._

_The locker room is loud, full of yelling, singing, chanting hockey players. Sid smiles, lets himself get caught up in the joyful noise. He missed this._

_Later, after the parade, Geno takes him home. They’ve successfully absconded with the Cup, away from Phil the Cup Keeper’s watchful eye. Sid initially puts it in his entertainment room, but Geno brings it upstairs with them. Sid doesn’t mind. It’s easier to keep an eye on it that way._

_They make out for hours, too drunk to do much of anything else, if Sid’s honest. Geno gets his hand, and then his mouth, on Sid’s dick, and Sid loses time to heat and wet and pressure._

_But if his eyes catch on the silver of the Cup whenever he tears his gaze away from Geno, only Geno’s there to judge._

 

Three times, well, that’s a pattern. And it’s one Sid’s happy to keep making.

He sets the Cup down in the bedroom and starts stripping. Once he’s naked, he heads for the adjoined bathroom.

“Coming, G?”

He hears the pad of footsteps and the rustle of clothing, so he turns his attention to making sure the water’s hot. Judging from previous experience, a little water won’t hurt the Cup, and it _is_ a little sticky still, so Sid grabs a cloth to start wiping it down. He’s bending over to get the second ring of names when familiar hands settle on his hips.

“Geno.”

Geno squeezes Sid’s hips encouragingly before stepping fully into the shower spray. Sid shivers as the water’s diverted, but keeps wiping down the Cup. The metal’s bright and shiny when he steps back to re-wet the cloth. Geno’s hair is plastered to his forehead like before, but he no longer smells like a locker room full of champagne.

Instead he smells a little like Sid.

Geno makes a noise and cups Sid’s face in his hands, leaning down to kiss Sid. The water’s still going, but most of the spray is blocked by Geno’s body. Sid drops the cloth on the Cup and leans up into the kiss. His own hands skate around Geno’s shoulders and down his water-slicked back, ending with a firm double handful of Geno’s ass. He squeezes and grins when Geno moans into the kiss.

They’ve tried shower sex before, but between slick tiles, Geno’s height, and Sid’s own, ahem, _assets_ , it’s never been a comfortable experience. But mutual handjobs are a good compromise they’ve made work. Less cleanup, anyway.

Sid works a hand between their bodies and wraps his fingers around Geno’s dick. He plays a little with the foreskin, rolling it over the head and alternating the pressure of his hand. Geno bites Sid’s lower lip in retaliation. “Sid, no teasing.”

Sid kisses him again and starts to work him over properly, his other hand roaming Geno’s back, hip, thigh, and landing back on his ass. Geno works a thigh between Sid’s own, letting Sid rub off against him.

Geno tenses when he comes, breaking the kiss and letting out a hissed breath. Sid groans and moves his hips. Geno drops his head onto Sid’s shoulder, lets go of Sid’s face, and grabs his own handfuls of ass to push Sid harder against Geno’s thigh.

Sid comes with a choked-off cry, and trembles when Geno steers him beneath the spray. He rinses perfunctorily and stumbles out of the shower to towel off. Between the two of them, they manage to get themselves and the Cup mostly dry before staggering over to Sid’s bed.

Sid looks between the bed, Geno, and the Cup. Decisions are hard. Geno snorts and manhandles him beneath the sheets. “We all fit. Is big bed.”

Well, yes. It’s not the most comfortable sleeping arrangement, and Sid wakes up more than once when cold metal rolls against his spine, but the Cup’s still in bed with him and Geno when Phil the Cup Keeper finally calls in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Please let me know of any errors or typos so I can correct them.


End file.
